Bloody Shirt
by bellamysblake
Summary: "You won't kill me. You won't admit it but you need me, just as much as I need you. Suck it up, trigger-finger. I'm not going anywhere." slowburn!jason todd/oc. (rated m just in case)
CHAPTER ONE **
3 MONTHS GONE**

He watched tentatively as they attempted to hoist the carcass onto the pleated mesh of the gurney with such a force he expected more blood to seep from the wound on impact and interweave the plush of the carpet beneath their very feet. The gurney didn't take kindly to the carpet's texture and caught in almost every crevice on the way out of the apartment, a sight to be viewed by himself and Officer Owens in their respectful silence. He could scarcely register the lamentings of a madwoman who lived adjacent to the family home, and another Officer flustering at her incoherent speech as he attempted to record the words that clumsily tumbled off her tongue.

"Another night, another homicide," his raucous timbre huffed; one hand safely placed upon him, the other faintly scratching a line between his brows. Commissioner Gordon often pondered his occupation from time-to-time, for it left him in a state of perpetual wonder and distrust. When he took the job those several years prior, he believed that making the office his own would ensure that he was desk-bound twenty-four seven, in no less than a cell decorated with a thread-bare rug and rusting décor. He believed the lack of comfort would allow him to leave often enough so he'd see his little boy grow up. His family, aside from his beloved Babs, dispersed long ago. They longed for a life outside of the dangers of Gotham, and someday he hoped he would too. But for now, he was required to visit broken homes decorated with bloody interiors. And he wondered how a content wife-to-be could wander home late from work and shoot her husband, before making a hasty retreat with her belongings. With the idea in mind that she intended leaving the country, the Commissioner made sure to inform Aaron Cash that all her credit cards should indeed be monitored for the time being – a precaution that could pinpoint her exact location in a matter of moments, and stop the suspect escaping. As it turned out, neither credit card of hers (or her fiancés) had been used in the past two days.

"What now?" He felt his colleague ask quietly, wringing his clammy hands in his usual, nauseating anxiety. The documents Owens had arrived with were cast aside in quick haste as Gordon acquired the knowledge that she had _somehow_ disappeared without a trace. He revealed an audible sigh in the inevitable questioning of Owens.

"We wait," he'd finally respond – taking that very juncture to quickly glance at the withering leather watch that clutched his right wrist. And, just as the commissioner suspected, the _flap!_ of an inky cape accompanied the surprised yelps of his colleagues as the Batman landed loudly against the apartment's exterior. He rubbed a hand against his aging lips, and across the signature moustache of his, before politely suggesting: "Owens, could you leave us?"

The officer was more than happy to oblige; his rotund colleague adjusted the hat perched upon his cranium before he brushed past Gotham's vigilante, narrowly escaping the edge of the doorframe in his hasty exit. Both the Commissioner and Batman exchanged the pleasantries they usually did, curt (yet, somehow polite) words of acknowledgement.

"Gordon."

"Batman."

"You look well."

"I've been better, Batman, to tell you the truth," he huffed wearily. It was true. The GCPD had noted that crime in Gotham had decreased substantially in the wake of the Joker's unruly demise, murders had dwindled by an astonishing 73% in the months passed, only to rise again ever so slightly in the frosty month of February. The murders of recent times were insignificantly random. Usually married individuals going losing their mind over their parent during petty arguments or reacting to an explicit sexual affair suddenly surfacing. Perhaps random stabbing or shooting in the streets. Alas, it was an increase of murderous acts all the same. So much for a little time off to relish in the vast-approaching springtime; that was simply wishful thinking on the Commissioner's part, he acknowledges that now.

War was coming, Gordon knew it. (He just didn't _realise_ how close it was.)

"It's okay, Jim. We'll find whoever did this."

"We got a damn good idea," the man answered, holding out the dossiers of the female suspect to his counterpart, who took them with concern written within his furrowed brow. Gloved hands shuffled through the documentation as the Commissioner continued his theory. "Alice Walker, 22. Attended Gotham U until she dropped out in her second year due to personal issues. Unemployed for one year due to her father needing full time care in the lead-up to his death, and then got a year-long internship at… Wayne Technology, before taking on full-time employment…"

"3 months ago. A week after Joker died due to the recommendations of Lucius Fox. I know." If Batman's slightly countenance could harden beneath the blackened visage, it surely did in the knowledge of his employee committing an act of murder. "What do we know about the victim?"

"He hasn't been properly ID-ed but we suspect it would be her husband-to-be, Sam Fowler. Engaged eight months – they've supposedly been sweethearts since they met at Gotham U four years ago. I guess not anymore."

"We don't know that. I'm going to reconstruct the murder to see if it leads me to anything." The grunt in response was all the consent he needed, and within a matter of moments, his evidence scanner was switched on by a button atop the side of his cranium. He scanned the blood spatters initially, noting the drag pattern across the right kitchen cupboard. "The victim was shot and slid down the lower cupboard, which means he wasn't hit in this spot. It means the impact of the shot pushed him backwards into the cupboard. For him to fall directly there, it means he would've had to have been hit…" he turned towards the opposing cupboard (for the kitchen area was something of an upside down 'U' shape), and he was appraised for his observation by the thin spatters of blood littering the countertop. "Here."

He zoomed in considerably before scanning the area, in which he managed to create a several second-long reconstruction of the moments which made up the murder of Sam Fowler. He proceeded to rewind and fast-forward the motions before determining an exact location of which the assailant stood when they took the shot, which lead him to the only entry of the family home: the frame of the front door.

"This is the exact place in which the person took the shot. But why? If it _was_ Alice, why didn't she wait until she'd closed the door to the apartment to kill him? It would have muffled the sound of the gunshot considerably, and maybe even given her more time to escape."

"Maybe she was in a hurry," Gordon suggested wearily, as he watched the vigilante at work with a most lacking intrigue. He'd seen Batman do such things countless times before, and it felt like just another day at the office for the Commissioner.

"Maybe. But I feel like I'm missing something." Batman moved back to the gory kitchen where he'd reconstruct the electronically-created footage of the murder from an angle he'd clearly neglected in the past. And he viewed it again. And again. And again. And the tapping of his friend's foot was a clear sign that he was starting to become increasingly impatient with the Batman's tedious editing work. Before, "That's not right."

"What?" Gordon enquired, rather irritably. Not that he meant to be so bitter towards his comrade, but if he knew that such a simple case would take the surprisingly length few hours to investigate, he would've made a hot mug of coffee to accompany his travels. Besides, it was much more boring to see the Batman at work, reconstructing the case as he did, when he was unable to view it himself. It was a moment or two before Batman replied.

"Do you have a rough height for Walker, or Fowler?"

"Uh, records say that she's approximately 5 ft. 5, give or take an inch. And Fowler... His last known height was 6 foot. Why?"

"The entry of the shot, in order to create that kind backlash for him to land against the second countertop whilst creating the small blood spatters on the first countertop, would have entered his mid-section at a 45 degree downward angle. A 5 ft. 5 female from a ten foot distance would not be able to make that shot. If she took the shot from the doorway, with the intention of hitting him in the torso, she would have shot the gun eye-level and the bullet would've entered horizontally, or even slightly vertically upwards. But the bullet was downward. Which either means that she was standing on something or…"

" _Or_ another person took the shot."

"At one point she _was_ in the room when Sam was killed, but we can rule her out as a killer. Now all we need to figure out is whether she knew the assailant. I suspect kidnapping. Look into restraining orders she may have filed in the past, complaints or calls to GCPD, jealous ex-boyfriends – anything like that seems like a good place to start," Batman recommended – as if he was telling the Commissioner himself how to carry out his job, his words of advice falling upon deaf ears as Gordon answered in that ever so gruff voice of his.

"Yeah, yeah. Look into the psychos and whatnot, I got it," he responded tiredly, running both hands over his maturing physiognomy in a display of weariness, and yet another acknowledgement that tonight would be, yet another, night ahead of them. And when he had the energy to peel back his eyelids and turn towards the hero, the signature disappearance of his associate left him alone in the grisly space that a happy couple once called a home, the front door flung open in means of escape. "He really has to stop doing that."

Batman, two rooftops across from his latest investigation, deemed it safe to harshly press against the raised metal of his wrist armour, in order to muster up a hologram of one of his most-trusted associates, Lucius Fox. The usually kind resemblance of the humble man turned to one of evident worriment, his uncertainty etched into every line of the older man's profile.

"Is something wrong, Mr. Wayne?" His magnanimous nature caused him to enquire, respectfully, of his patron's temperament – in fear that he was in a trouble of sorts. He was not prepared for the speech that followed.

"I'm fine, Lucius. I need you to look into Alice Walker from Wayne Technology department, and find out her last known location. Her boyfriend has been found dead, and she's just been reported missing by the GCPD. There's a chance she could've been kidnapped. I need you to look at the security footage and find out when she was last at Wayne Tower."

He needn't continue, for the dubiety replacing Fox's worry explained all that the Batman needed to know of her whereabouts.

"That's impossible, Mr. Wayne," Lucius informed him, sceptically. "She was just here."

"What?"

"She came back about twenty minutes ago, Mr. Wayne. She said that she had a fault in her newest portfolio for newest technological advances that she needed to change before I had the chance to look at it. She said she'll bring it back the earliest she can tomorrow morning."

"What did she look like, Lucius? Skittish, scared, something off about her that would be out of the ordinary?"

"She seemed a little off. I asked her if she was okay, and she said she was simply worried about the mistake in the portfolio. Which is… Most peculiar, Mr. Wayne. In the while we've had her, Alice doesn't often make mistakes, or at least – she doesn't get this worked up over mistakes. She left about ten minutes ago."

They say that bad news travels fast in unfortunate situations such as these, but for Bruce Wayne, they couldn't travel fast enough.

For Alice Walker, and her anonymous captor, _now_ had their hands on a portfolio containing the blueprints on how to create advanced technological weaponry. Including the parts needed to build unmanned drones.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** i'm trying to make this as believable as possible, so sorry if there's any errors included that don't quiiiiite make sense! i'm giving it a go. this is my first attempt at writing a dc/arkham game fanfiction since like... 2013. which is crazy. but i'm giving it a go and i cannot WAIT to do it so like, i hope u enjoy it too? i adore reviews so feel free to leave one, and hopefully next time we get to meet the oc... dun dun duuuun! if it's not clear enough, it IS alice walker but i wanted to start off with a weird ambigous beginning to the story to hopefully leave u all captivated! next one should be up shortly. ps. the old ''3 months gone'' determines the length of time it's been since joker's death! _**review xoxo**_


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